My little sister has been giving me periodic updates on this movie being made for almost a year now. I’m starting to think she works for Entertainment Tonight or something. Anyway…

So here is the first look of the remake of next summer’s movie depicting the most awesome action TV show of my childhood, The A-Team. It looks like it has potential. Liam Neeson looks freakishly similar to the late George Peppard, who was the original Col. Hannibal Smith. And Bradley Cooper as Faceman seems to be a winner. Not too sure about the other guys. I gotta be honest, I really don’t know much about either one. The guy playing B.A. Baracus is some retired UFC fighter and the actor playing Murdock was in that movie District 9. All I can say is that they better not screw this one up! My childhood can’t take too much more in regards to garbage movies after the Transformers and G.I. Joe crap.

If you ever watched The A-Team back in the day, then you probably remember the back story that they were being hunted down by the government and there was always an Army Colonel in charge of tracking them down (Lynch, Decker). Well, in this flick coming out next year, the Army Colonel chasing The A-Team around is going to be played by Jessica Biel. WTF? Come on. Who’s going to be trying to get away from Jessica Biel?!? This might be too unrealistic to watch.

Here is a pretty cool video. In this video is 172 communications majors at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM). Pretty sure that’s in Canada. Anyway, they lip-synch to the Black Eyed Peas “I Gotta Feeling”, and you appreciate the video when you realize it was all done in one take. Pretty damn impressive!

How would you have felt if you were one of the last ones in the video? No pressure, right?

The following is an open letter to my dog, Max. He died today. And after 10 years of his companionship, I wish I could have told him all this myself.

Dear Max,

If there was a way for you to clearly understand what I wanted to convey to you, or to tell you how I was feeling, I would do it. But unfortunately for us, a crazy device like that has yet to be invented. Can you imagine it, though? It would be like a voice translator, from owner to dog. And vice versa. Although I would probably be nervous about what you had to say to me. But I digress.

You died today, Max. You had complications from your surgery. You know, the surgery to remove that part of the bath towel that you found irresistible? Yeah, that one. Not the second one where they went in again two days later to try and repair the leaking of bacteria to your belly. That’s what did you in. You went in for your second surgery on Saturday. That day the vet said that you being put to sleep was an option I should consider. I told them to take you into surgery to try and save you. I’m sorry they had to open you up a second time. But I couldn’t not try. You were too important to me to just let go of. I think you knew that too. Or at least felt the same way. Because you fought until the end. Even though you were just a dog.

I’m 33 years old. And I’ve never really dealt with death until now. Yes, I’ve been to funerals before, but not for anyone, or anything, that had direct impact on my life. I got you as a puppy in 1999, the only good thing that came out of a relationship with a young lady that we have both forgotten about a long time ago. You have been a constant in my life for 10 years. For all the questionable decisions I’ve made in my life, for all the people I’ve hurt and for all the times I displayed less than first-class morals, you never judged me. All you ever gave me was you eternal loyalty. And your love. And I will always be thankful for that. If there was anything I could count on without hesitation, it was you. And that you would always be happy to see me. And that meant a lot to me. Even though you were just a dog.

It scares the crap out of me for how I am taking this. What happens the day I lose someone in my family? Or a close friend? Am I going to be 10 times worse than I am right now? These are questions I don’t want to think about at the moment. So I am hoping this helps me. I’m hoping that writing you this letter will help bring me closure. I know. It’s funny to read about. Closure from losing a dog?? Seriously?? Yes, closure.

You fought hard, Max. You fought hard all the way. You even showed signs of beating the infection. But in the end, after the second tough surgery, you were too weak. And you were suffering. And it killed me to see you like that. I recall when they first suggested euthanizing you. It was like a punch to the stomach. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Of course I knew how serious it was then. And at this moment I hate myself. Because you would still be with me if I hadn’t left that towel out. I don’t get it. What is so good about a towel that would make you want to eat it? WTF? It couldn’t have tasted good. But how were you supposed to know what you were doing to yourself. You were just a dog.

So now I’m trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I’m pretty bummed about all this. And in fact I have cried several times. And I don’t mean I’ve shed a couple of tears. I mean I have flat out weeped over losing you. I’m a 33 year old man. What the hell, right? What kind of man does this? Every time I feel a lump in my throat, I ask that question. At this exact moment, I am sitting in the backyard (God bless wireless), on the deck with Murphy, watching a fire burn. I am not feeling the lump right now, but downing a bottle of sangria I found will make you numb enough to get through writing a letter to your now deceased dog without crying like a little girl. I’m sure I will need to proof read this in the morning. Anyway, a real man doesn’t cry. Especially about something like this. I mean, for crying out loud, you were just a dog.

So today around 11:30am, the vet called me to tell me that you weren’t showing any signs of improvement. That your protein levels were down. And that your recovery was grim. I asked her if you were suffering. She said yes. So at 1:30pm I went to the vet’s office. They brought you to a room and left us alone for roughly 15 minutes. I apologized to you profusely for my mistake. The carelessness that led to your demise. And begged for your forgiveness. And what did you do? You just looked at me. You gave me a “Can we get the hell out of here already?” look that broke my heart. Of course, you did this while you were laying down. Too weak to move. And then the vet came back in, with the euthanization drugs that would end our time together. She injected the drugs into your swollen front leg, and told me that it would only be a few moments. But it wasn’t. And she was puzzled. And she soon discovered that the catheter that she had placed had come loose, and all the lethal drug she thought she had injected in you had in fact leaked onto the blanket you were lying on. I’d like to think that this was your handy work. That is was a last ditch effort to fend off death. If you could have turned your paw over and given her the bird, I know you would have. But of course, you didn’t. Because you were just a dog.

You passed away at about 1:53pm. But not before I told you something I had never told you before in 10 years of companionship. I told you I loved you. Again, here I am a grown man telling a dog that I loved him? Yeah. I did. And I’m not ashamed. And I told you that I hope it was true of what people said. That all dogs go to heaven. Because that would mean if I cleaned up my act and started leading a more fulfilling life, then maybe we would see each other again. And that I would be there with you to throw a tennis ball for you to fetch. And that you would then look at me with that “You don’t expect me to go get that for you?” expression on your face. But I would be cool with that. I honestly wouldn’t mind. Because a moment of me wondering what it is that you hate about playing fetch would be one more moment with you. And I would take that in a heartbeat.

I wish I had been a better owner to you, Max. I regret so much not taking you to the dog park more often. I regret not letting you inside the house more. And I especially regret not taking more pictures of you. I wish we would have had more time. I wish you would have been around to see my first born. I often wondered what you would have thought if a baby ever come to the house. Knowing you, you would have just loved it like you loved me. Deep down, I do believe you were capable of loving, even though you were just a dog.

There will no doubt be people wondering what is wrong with me (I haven’t told too many people, but to hell with it, they can find out about it now). Why I’m bummed out. And why am I taking your death so hard. I won’t know exactly what to tell them. But in the end, most of them will say the inevitable. They will say something like, “I’m sorry about Max. But get over it. He was just a dog”. But that’s where they are wrong. And as I type this last part of the letter, it is evident that the sangria has worn off. You were more than just a dog, Max. You were my friend. A loyal and devoted friend. And I will miss you very much.

October is here. And that means it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month. And it’s times like these that I feel I should speak out. You see everyone, few causes are as important as this one. You want to Save the whales? That’s great. But let’s save the boobs first, got it? Priorities, people!

You want to hug a tree? That’s cool. Me? I’d rather hug boobs. And I think I speak for every man and woman out there that boobs take priority over trees. So, to hell with the trees. Save the boobs! This cannot be ignored!! If that means other causes have to be put on the back burner, so be it! Priorities, people.

What about PETA? Hmmm… no. Save the boobs, damn it! I hope I am getting through to everyone. This is absolutely of the utmost importance!! Don’t ignore this plea. To illustrate how motivated I am about this, I will offer free breast exams as long as there is something in writing that I can’t be held accountable for anything. I am just trying to help here.